


Keep Your Chin Up, or Else People Will Think You're Looking Down on Them

by lifeofdeathh



Series: Silver Soul: To Hell and Back Again [2]
Category: Gintama
Genre: Angst, Established Relationship, Family, Fluff, I'm Sorry, Parallels, Promises, THEY SUFFER, War, but not really, i feel bad
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-12
Updated: 2020-12-17
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:22:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27532198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lifeofdeathh/pseuds/lifeofdeathh
Summary: They say when two crows fly towards each other, the war drums will thunder, and your past will come back to bite you in the ass.
Relationships: Hijikata Toshirou & Kagura, Hijikata Toshirou & Kondou Isao, Hijikata Toshirou & Sasaki Tetsunosuke, Hijikata Toshirou & Shimura Shinpachi, Hijikata Toshirou/Sakata Gintoki, Kagura & Sakata Gintoki & Shimura Shinpachi, Kagura/Okita Sougo, Katsura Kotarou & Sakamoto Tatsuma & Sakata Gintoki & Takasugi Shinsuke, Sakata Gintoki & Takasugi Shinsuke
Series: Silver Soul: To Hell and Back Again [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1777717
Comments: 3
Kudos: 26





	1. Remember to Never Look Back When Chase by a Monster

**Author's Note:**

> Hello hello, I have returned with the second installment of Silver Soul: To Hell and Back Again. Aka the sequel to that ricin poisoning fic like 2 people asked for but YOUR WISH IS MY COMMAND. This fic is currently unfinished so unlike that ricin fic, updates will not be consistent but bear with me I promise I won't abandon.
> 
> Speaking of which, I do recommend you read the first part of this series first because this is a direct continuation and a lot of references won't make a lot of sense (for example, you will have no idea why the city is burned to the ground or who the heckity heck Touka is). But, if you don't want to, that's fine as well, if you overlook some of the "what??" moments this can PROBABLY work as a stand alone. 
> 
> Anyhoo, I won't ramble too much, and I hope your enjoy :))

_"Many say their efforts to stop the war were in vain, but if you’d like to hear about it, that is a tale for another day."_

**oO0Oo**

“Touka-kun, come, it’s time for that tale I promised you.”

**oO0Oo**

Sometimes the things you do were simply in vain.

Gintoki learned that the hard way a long time ago, but that didn’t mean it didn’t irk him to no end. It was even worse when they had nearly no time for respite or repair. Five days after the disaster, Edo’s residents filed slowly into the darkened, charred city, tentative as they brushed away the ashes and shouldered through collapsing doorways into a ruined living room. But the city wasn’t quiet, because children were ever annoyingly happy, filling the air with a fondness Gintoki wouldn’t admit he found comforting. He returned to the blackened Yorozuya with the kids, and the old hag with her cat and robot, to find the stairs collapsed into themselves and only corners of counters and shattered glass of sake bottles remained. At least the walls were still standing.

That day, the booing and sneering behind them alerted Gintoki to the harsh reality that would befall Edo’s designated guardians. Because even if under their orders the people had escaped safe and sound, even if Toushirou almost died to reduce the rebel forces and gave the people just enough time to evacuate, they needed someone to blame, and when the people needed someone to blame, never far from their sight were those they took for granted.

They walked through the streets, taking the insults and anger with backs straight and fists clenched. In front, Kondou Isao walked with eyes downcast, lips pressed tight together.

“Kondou-san,” the deep baritone was soothing, a chill breeze against the rapid-fire taunts. “Chin up.” So as they disappeared out of sight, Kondou lifted his head, his right hand a steady presence, limping at his side, and led the Shinsengumi into a future unknown.

When they passed, Gintoki turned his back and padded with easy nonchalance into what remained of the Otose Snack Bar.

He knew the other man’s eyes did not leave the road ahead.

**oO0Oo**

Five days after the whole ordeal was when Gintoki’s phone rang him out of his dreams. He didn’t bother to glance at the caller ID before picking up.

“I was just about to eat a piece of strawberry cake when a side character woke me up so I’ll be expecting payment in parfaits.”

“Shut up, asshole. And who the hell’s a side character?”

“You’re not of the main trio, now, are you, Oogushi-kun. Know your place.”

“I’m above the kids in the popularity polls!”

“That doesn’t make you the main character!”

“That makes me not a side character!”

And so the bantering goes, and when the vice commander grew tired from the day’s exhaustions, the president of that useless company told him of his day and the kids and the dog until the line went quiet with the sound of the commander’s sleep soothed breathing.

**oO0Oo**

A week later, the supposed cure, probably still in its testing stage when they got their hands on it, continued to backfire relentlessly on Toushirou. Gintoki would be lying if he said he wasn’t relieved (he’d still lie about it though) when news came of the younger Furutaka spilling that the effects would fade with time. How long, she did not say. They weren’t even sure she knew.

Toushirou was in his uniform vest, black jacket draped over his shoulders and torso as he dozed on Gintoki’s lap, sprawled on his side against the slight curve of the sofa. 

In the first few days, Gintoki and the kids had fixed the stairs to the extent of usable, then in the past one and a half weeks, the little attic was livable again, and the three long-term, non-rent-paying residents had moved back in at the first sign of that. It was albeit still a little charred here and there, but they were managing just fine. The Shinsengumi too seemed to be rebuilding, though their reputation remained dragged through the mud and stomped on by the distraught people of Edo.

Gintoki knew it hurt Toushirou to see the group he treasured above everything and pushed to the top shattered and hated, and Gintoki was certain the man at least partially blamed himself for it.

He hadn’t been on patrol recently, and they hadn’t run into each other when he wandered around town and saw the black-clad shoulders gathered tighter than before, the atmosphere tense as people gave them a wide berth. It could have been by Toushirou’s own choice, or else Kondou had been forced to pull rank to get the stubborn bastard to rest. The latter was much more likely, Gintoki decided, after all, the former was too much to hope for. Today was apparently his first day back on duty, and Gintoki had run headlong into him and the little sadist, then taken one look at dull eyes and shadows marring pale skin before forcefully dragging the vice commander back to the Yorozuya, not even bothering to come up with an excuse as they left Soichirou-kun in the dust smiling that knowing, sadistic smile of his. As if he didn’t already have enough blackmail material to give the two of them headaches for the next ten lifetimes.

Overhead, two ravens launched off their perch, sweeping in an elegant arc towards each other, glistening black wingtips brushing as they soared past.

There had been some arguing and bickering, of course, there was never smooth sailing when it came to their relationship. Although this time the nicotine addict certainly put up less of a struggle than usual before he allowed himself to be pulled to the tattered couch, where he drifted off within seconds.

Gintoki examined Toushirou as he slept in that passively interested way of his, cataloging the toll that the medicine and stress had taken on him in the past weeks. He noted the smell of cigarettes, and yes the dumbass _always_ smelled of cigarettes, but the scent hadn’t been this strong since the initial days after Mitsuba’s departure. Gintoki pictured the overflowing ashtray in Toushirou’s office, paperwork littering the usually neat tabletop, as he brushed his hand absent-mindedly through ebony hair. He hadn’t been sleeping well, if the shadows under his eyes were any indication, not with the morale so low and Edo down on her knees. Gintoki’s eyes dropped to his wrists.

 _Not eating well either._ If at all.

Lifting his hand from Toushirou’s hair, Gintoki fiddled with his fingers, relaxed in their position beside Gintoki’s leg, one of them draped on his thigh. His wrists were too thin, so that Gintoki could easily touch his thumb and pinky finger together. He made to lift the hand in front of his face for better examination.

“What are you doing?” Something lethally gentle unfurled in Gintoki at the faint, sleep-muffled voice.

“Making sure you’re still a functional human,” he settled for a drawled response. “What’s a policeman doing starving himself? What if an alien invasion comes, huh? So irresponsible, Hijikata-kun~” He dragged out the last syllable in the way he knew would tick Toushirou’s nerves, fingers still wrapped around the man’s wrist. He was met with a half annoyed grumble.

“I’ve been busy.” The resignation in the pathetic excuse was enough on its own to tell Gintoki that the bastard just hadn’t been able to keep things down.

“Not even your favorite dog food?”

“Apologize to mayonnaise, bastard.”

“I’m a food critic, Hijikata-kun, I even have the certificate. You should listen to me and quit mayonnaise.”

“Tch, in your dreams. And I don’t want to hear that from someone whose diet consists of 99% sugar.”

“At least my diet actually tastes good.”

“You wish.” The grogginess peeking back into Toushirou’s words made Gintoki smile. He can imagine how long it’s been since the idiot’s had a good night’s sleep. His hand went back to carding gently through Toushirou’s hair.

“Vice commander!” The urgency shattered the rare tenderness of the moment, and Hijikata was on his feet and pulling on his jacket in seconds, leaving an empty cold void where his warmth had seeped into Gintoki’s side.

Regardless, a little salty at the interruption, Gintoki let his head flop onto the back of the sofa, hands cushioning the back of his neck. Briefly, he wondered where the kids were. He glanced at the mid-afternoon light filtering through the doorway. Shinpachi would be getting groceries, and Kagura causing trouble somewhere with their oversized dog. The officer’s next words, however, had Gintoki shooting out the door and vaulting over the stairs’ railing as Hijikata sprinted down three at a time. They met at the bottom and broke into a run, leaving the young officer to follow.

_The Amanto have declared war._


	2. When the Rooster Crows and the Sun Rises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They go to war.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to my wonderful friend Ness (GolapLioness) for betaing <3

The drums beat in time to the pounding of their feet along the dirt road, people shouting and doors slamming shut, a melody of their own. Children cried at the fury of the violent promise. Screams filled his ears, but as he shot along the streets beside a streak of silver, one cry stood out above the others.

It was the wailing of a child barely out of toddlerhood, mingled with a young woman’s desperate search for her child, and as Hijikata skidded to a halt, he spotted the child just a few paces to his right, face and hands dirtied as if he had fallen, cowering among the panicked crowd, no one having enough time to kneel and ask whether he was alright. Hijikata didn’t blame them, not with the drums growing ever louder, and the first of many arrowheads glinting on the horizon. A few steps had him grabbing the child, lifting him off the ground and diving into a roll into the shadow of an overhang. The first barrage of arrows fell, and he shielded the little body with his own behind the narrow shield of a barely repaired wooden post.

A woman’s shrill wail tore through the air harsher than any arrow could, and Hijikata cupped his hands around the little boy’s ears, because a young child’s innocence was always worth trying to protect. The chaos quieted, replaced by a man’s screams and a girl’s cries. Hijikata moved, scooping the young boy back into his arms and shooting out from where he had hidden, blood pounding in his ears as he set the boy down. He watched him run to his older sister, who immediately ushered him into their home, the straw roof littered with arrows. Hijikata approached the man kneeling next to his wife.

“Get inside.” He did not see the punch coming until it sent him slamming into the adjacent wall. The impact rattled his bones, temple striking hard against the wood, but he kept himself upright despite the trembling in his legs. Spitting out the blood from where he had bitten his tongue, Hijikata pulled his katana. If the people were stubborn to believe they were nothing more than villains, then he might as well take advantage of that.

“Get inside,” he growled. The man looked frozen for a moment before he sneered at Hijikata, gathered the quickly stiffening body of his wife into his arms and disappeared into the house right as the second wave hit. The door slammed, and Hijikata ducked again behind a post, arrows whizzing past in a never ending storm.

Across the street, a familiar grunt followed by a worried cry brought Hijikata peeking out, only to pull back violently when a sharp tip sliced past his cheek. Seconds more passed, and when the rain finally ceased, Hijikata shot across the street to Gintoki and Shinpachi, the former with an arrow lodged securely in his left shoulder blade, presumably obtained when he had to play the hero and shoved the boy out of the way. 

Experienced eyes swept over the damage. The blood was clean,  _ not poisonous _ , but the tip was jagged, metal bits digging into the skin surrounding the injury itself, made to keep the wound open and prevent victims from pulling it out until they died of blood loss.

He supposed the Amanto must have not taken into account those who were reckless enough to risk the blinding pain. 

Hijikata shrugged off his jacket just as Gintoki wrapped his hand around the stem and pulled. Then he was deftly wrapping the heavy fabric around Gintoki’s shoulder, a shadow of a wince passing as Hijikata pulled the makeshift bindings tight.

He offered his hand, and Gintoki took it, uncoiling to his feet. He watched maroon eyes briefly glance over purple bruises and crusted blood before Gintoki turned to Shinpachi.

“Where’s Kagura.”

“With Okita-san.”

“Let’s go.”

**oO0Oo**

The Amanto targeted civilians, storming the streets,breaking walls and gates to reach the screaming people inside so that even with the Shinsengumi and shogun’s forces combined, they were scrambling to protect their people. Just as it seemed as if civilians were going to become bulk casualties, the alien forces retreated.

It left the defenders breathless, civilians terrified, and Hijikata hastily wiping the blood from his brow and slamming the shoji to the meeting room to figure out: 1) why the sudden declaration and 2) how the hell they were going to deal with it.

That left Gintoki lazing about the barracks by himself, the hole in his shoulder patched up by the elderly, stern doctor, along with the other cuts and scrapes and a few more holes he gathered up during the fight. It had been particularly exhausting, he admitted, and even Sadaharu was licking his wounds somewhere with Kagura. Knowing the giant dog, he’s probably licking her wounds too. Shinpachi was long gone, dragged home by his terrifying force of nature of a sister.

He peered at the rising moon to the east, throwing shadows across the fields and drawing out the crickets’ symphony. It’s been hours, yet the light remained on in the room across the training field, raised voices periodically floating through the air. Bored out of his mind and (very unfortunately) with no JUMP to entertain him, Gintoki resigned himself to picking out the various voices among the chatter, a blade of grass dangling between his lips with no real purpose. 

Sasaki Isaburo’s robotic monotone, Matsudaira’s ruffian-like base, Kondou’s rough undertone-

Something slammed onto the table, and the room went quiet. A familiar snarl rippled through the night air, and the crickets stopped singing.

“They are demanding  _ half _ of Edo’s  _ entire population _ to make up for their reputation and feed their fragile egos!!”

“And then the other half will be safe. We can rebuild.”

“ _ Five hundred thousand people! _ ”

“It does not make a difference. The Amanto would leave us alone if we meet their demands.”

“We swore to protect-”

“We  _ are _ protecting Edo-”

“ _ We are NOT! _ ”

Another voice chimed in with muffled words, and Hijikata snapped back a response. More unintelligible words were exchanged, intriguing enough that Gintoki padded across the grounds, left hand dangling in the loose front of his kimono.

“We will resume tomorrow,” the gorilla finalized, surprisingly unwavering in his order. For once, no one dared challenge his authority. Even the monocled “elitist” deemed it too late to argue further. The shoji slid open, and the meeting’s attendants filtered out, still bloodied and dirty. A few threw him strange glances while the majority decided to ignore his very existence (rude). He stood in the stream, grounded and waiting, until the familiar figure framed the doorway, a cigarette crushed angrily between bloodless lips.

“My my, Hijikata-kun, so much for being clandestine all the time.” He got a glare for that.

“I didn’t realize your brain could handle words like that.”

“I didn’t realize your brain can still handle words,” Gintoki countered, raising a skeptical brow at the blood still coating the side of Hijikata’s face. Said man scoffed as he padded down the few stairs elevating the platform, flicking away the burnt out cigarette and fumbling to light another one. He stopped next to Gintoki, taking a long drag of his precious cancer stick and letting out a shaky breath, the wound on his temple hidden beneath the dark hair plastered to the side of his head. A touch earned Gintoki a hiss, a pronounced flinch, and a hard slap on the wrist that left him quickly withdrawing and rubbing at it.

“So cruel, Oogushi-kun.”

“The hell’s Oogushi-kun.”

“Gin-san was just proving a point! You have to let me voice my opinions Toushi, or else it’s an abusive relationship!”

The lack of snapped response was more or less less worrying than the cigarette dropped on the ground, and definitely less worrying than the way Hijikata’s fingers hovered at his temple, eyelids sliding dangerously low.

“Hey.” Gintoki straightened and shifted so that he was facing Hijikata, grabbing his wrist and pulling shaking fingers away from the injury. “Better get that checked before you lower the IQ of the entire country.”

“Well now I don’t want to,” was the grounded out reply.

“Now, now, be a good boy and do what you’re told.”

“Who’s abusive now?”

And here we approach a moment that the author deemed warranting a deus ex machina, because the doctor rounded the corner.

“Toushirou-san.” Hijikata’s eyes were dazed when they opened to peer at the older woman. Then to Gintoki’s surprise, the stubborn bastard only nodded. He made a mental note to do some prodding about the doctor to see if she was magic.

“Follow me,” she ordered, and the two men did. Gintoki’s hand remained on Hijikata’s arm, and he couldn’t help but think he was supporting more of Hijikata’s weight than the vice commander would ever admit.

The doctor (was it Koyue?) slid open the door and led them into dimly lit warmth, where she gestured to a laid out futon. As soon as Hijikata’s head hit the pillow, he promptly slid into unconsciousness as she (maybe it was Kazue) laid a hand on his forehead.

“No fever,” was the quiet murmur before she tread softly away and washed her hands at the small sink on the other side of the room before settling on the ground besides Hijikata. She pulled on gloves with a deft snap, lifting his head with a mother’s familiarity. She picked up a washcloth from the pail beside her, squeezing it lightly and bringing it over his temple to dislodge the dirt and debris before using tweezers to pick out the smaller specks. Soon, those disappeared too, a bottle of ointment taking their place, and she began applying it in a thin layer over the gash. 

Gintoki was drawn enough by the nimble hands that he jolted when the doctor suddenly turned, wise brown eyes catching his own as she waved him over. He obeyed, following her directions to keep the vice commander’s head off the pillow while she threaded the bandages under his bangs and fitted them securely at the back of his head

She nodded her thanks and motioned for Gintoki to set him back down, then magicked out another small, screened contraption, with the needle at the top, with which she gently pricked Hijikata’s finger. Then she set it on her knee, wrapping a thin strip of gauze around the little red bloom. She frowned down at it.

“Hypoglycemia*,” she murmured.

Then came some more needles followed by quite a bit of digging in the black bag she carried around, her petite form nearly disappearing into the huge thing before coming away with a satisfied sigh. In her hand she held a small bag of clear liquid.

Quickly, she disinfected the needles and connected the wires, preparing a piece of tape on the side. How she was doing that with only two hands, Gintoki had no clue.

Soon, the IV was hooked up properly, the doctor having improvised and hooked the bag to a bookshelf nearby, when finally, she peeled off the gloves and sat back with a sigh.

“10% glucose solution,” she said in reply to Gintoki’s unspoken question. “He hadn’t been eating, and the fight overexerted his body.” He nodded, grimacing at the pain that flared up in his own shoulder. It drew the doctor’s attention. “I can get you something for the pain.” He shook his head, he’s been through worse, not to mention he didn’t want drugs in his system. 

She seemed to understand, and gave him a fond smile, something soft that reminded him of Shouyou-sensei. He watched her, and knew she wouldn’t run. Not when she dealt with a gorilla with no sense of shame, a demon who was going to die of lung cancer, a sadist who did nothing but sleep all day, and all the other imbeciles that made up the Shinsengumi with memories drenched in ink and shadow.

“Gintoki-san.” He blinked, how did she know his- ah that’s right he had told her earlier. “I’ve been working for police forces for 17 years and counting, and I’ve never seen anyone as reckless as the two of you.” She chuckled, and he found his lips pulled into a smile of his own despite the dark reality that loomed over them. 

His eyes drew back to Hijikata, letting himself enjoy these last moments of peace before everything went to hell, because tomorrow, tomorrow, Hijikata would shut himself into the meeting room with the big shots, win and lose argument after argument. Gintoki would return to the Yorozuya and spend long minutes examining the bokuto wondering whether it was ever enough. Tomorrow, lives would be thrown into a whirlwind of unknown terrors, and they would be at the center of it all, katanas gripped tight, a buried sea roaring and crashing in their souls, singing a dissonant melody reverberating along the invisible red strings, sending shivers up their spines. Tomorrow, children would cry, mothers would soothe, and soldiers would cower and kill and die until Edo drowned in the darkness of mourning and people counted the stars hoping they were not counting what they have lost. Tomorrow, they would make promises, and then break them and watch those they love gather up the broken pieces with bleeding hands.

Because when the rooster crows and the sun rises, they go to war.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Low blood sugar. Symptoms include clumsiness, trouble talking, confusion, loss of consciousness, seizures, or death. Causes include not eating or overexertion, or in this case, both!

**Author's Note:**

> Yes bad things are already happening. Yes, I am a bad person. No, I am not sorry.
> 
> Love you all <3


End file.
